The incidence of crime among fifty million people affects the average
individual very seldom. Any ordinary man who has his pocket picked or
the domestic silver stolen, has the feeling that he has been unfairly
selected as the victim of a phenomenon. Why should such a singular
misfortune happen to him?
So it was with Penelope Noelson. A very much worried person was that
girl as she left the precincts of the Grape Street police station.
She felt a sense of injustice that she should have become caught in a
coil from which she saw no way of extricating herself. If only things
would work out so that she would not be involved. A selfish attitude no
doubt, but one which she would have been something more than human to
avoid.
Quite illogically, there was a touch of exasperation in her mind with
Labar. She had felt grateful to him as she left the station, but now
she reflected that like many men he was blind in one eye. How dare
he assume that her silence was due to an affection for Mr. Hughes?
Why, he had even hinted that--that----. She flushed hotly at the
implication that she realised might have lain behind his guarded words.
For Penelope, although a modern and sophisticated maiden, had a quite
sufficient self-respect.
She had to carry on the fight alone. There was no one, neither relation
nor intimate friend, to whom she might turn for counsel or sympathy.
And beyond it all lay the shadow of the gaol. If there had only been
something she could do, some active step that she might take, it
would have been easier. She thought of flight. That would, however,
be taken as an admission of guilt. Besides, she had little money, and
her commonsense told her that Labar had probably foreseen and guarded
against that very contingency. Any attempt of that kind might very well
be the signal for her arrest.
It was with her thoughts thus occupied that she did not observe Larry
Hughes until he was within a couple of paces. He raised his hat and
dropped into step by her side.
"Miss Noelson. The very person I was hoping to see. May I have a word
with you?"
She turned an embarrassed face to him. "You! The police----" She
struggled for words.
"Please don't fear for me," he said smilingly. "I am in no imminent
danger of arrest. That is what you are afraid of, I guess. I gather
that you have just left my humorous young friend, Detective Inspector
Labar. No doubt he spent a pleasant quarter of an hour blackening my
character. An ambitious young man is Mr. Labar. He believes that I am
some sort of a gilt-edged criminal, and that you are my accomplice.
Funny, isn't it?"
The airy jocularity of his tone did not deceive her. Her intuition told
her more than he meant to betray. "What do you want?" she demanded. "If
things are as you say, then for us to be seen together will look even
more suspicious."
"You are being shadowed," he said. "There is a gentleman loitering a
little aimlessly down the road, who I judge is interested in you. I
have had a couple of detectives behind me whenever I have taken a walk.
Fortunately, motor cars are a little difficult for eavesdroppers. I
have mine at hand. A ride for ten minutes will allow me to make many
things clear. Will you come?"
She shook her head with decision. Whatever lay behind all this, it
was likely that it could bring her nothing but harm, in view of the
suspicions that already focussed upon her and Hughes.
"There is no need to make things clear to me," she said. "If you know
anything about this crime, Mr. Hughes, you should go to the police."
He gripped her by the arm, and she felt his fingers tighten. "You are
not afraid?" he demanded. "This is absurd, I must see you."
The shadower was standing some distance away, surveying with apparently
idle interest a couple of men engaged on road repairs. But Larry
guessed that in a few moments he would saunter down towards them. There
was no time to take chances. His grip tightened roughly and he almost
shook her.
"Let me go," she cried. "You're hurting my arm."
"Then you'll come?"
"No."
"You obstinate little fool," he snarled, and she found his arms
encircling her, as she was lifted from the ground.
A cry for help escaped her, and she saw in a quick glance that the
detective had lost interest in the road repairers and was running
towards them. She fought with all the strength of her lithe, young body
to tear herself away. One arm she managed to wrench free and Larry
ripped out an oath as her fist caught him on the jaw.
With a supreme effort he hurled her through the door of the car which
someone within held open, and tumbled in on top of her. She felt other
hands clutching at her and a cloth was drawn tightly about her face,
smothering her screams. She heard the door slam and felt the car drawn
fiercely into motion. Still she maintained her struggles until at last
the two men--she knew there were two now--had pinned her to her seat,
and she could move neither hand nor foot.
So they held her, it seemed for hours, though at a later stage she
knew that it was for less than an hour, while they were running out of
London.
The noise of traffic died down, and the soft not unmusical voice of
Larry Hughes came to her ear. "Sorry to be rough, but you rather forced
it on us. You had better accept things as they are, and we shall all be
more comfortable. Promise that you have finished with this tiger-cat
business, and we'll let you travel like a civilised being."
She was exhausted, and in any case she could not hope to make any
further effective resistance. The cloth about her head prevented her
speaking, but she nodded and she felt the hands that pressed her down
cautiously withdrawn. The cloth was taken from about her face. Larry
Hughes, however, still retained a grip of her wrist.
"That's better," he announced. "Tom, stop the car for a moment and get
in front with Williams. Miss Noelson and I have a few private things to
discuss."
She remained silent, collecting her thoughts, till the car had started
again. Then she spoke angrily.
"This is an outrage."
"I agree," he said, coolly. "What would you expect? I had to do this,
since you would not let me persuade you. I have saved you from a very
awkward position."
"You have placed me in a worse one," she retorted. "What do you intend
to do with me now?"
He freed her wrist and regarded her speculatively, with a cold smile
twitching at the corners of his mouth. "That depends," he said. "I
have, thanks to Mr. Labar, had to push things rather in a hurry. How
much of what he told me about you was true? Not all, I'm sure, or you
wouldn't have been allowed to walk out of the police station this
morning."
He had contrived to startle the girl out of her attitude of cold
resentment. She pulled herself round till she was half-facing him.
"What did he say? What does he know?"
"I can't tell you what he knows, but what he asserted that he knew was
that you had committed forgery, and that you tried first to bribe him,
and then to knock him out. The case as he presented it was pretty ugly.
There was only one thing left for me to do as a friend of yours. That
was to get you out of the way."
Penelope's face darkened as she listened. Was Labar trying some subtle
underhand game of bluff? If he had thus lied about her to Hughes, might
he not equally have lied to her when he declared that Larry Hughes was
a criminal? What could he hope to gain by it? Her hands opened and
closed nervously as she considered. Had she misjudged Hughes merely on
the strength of this man's word whom she had only met yesterday?
"That is a string of lies," she said scornfully.
"Not altogether, I think," he said thoughtfully, his dark piercing eyes
fixed unwaveringly on her, as though he would read her thoughts. "There
is truth in it somewhere. How much? How much has Adèle told you?" He
thrust his face even closer towards her. "I know there is a reason
for your actions. I am your friend and hers. I am taking a heavy risk
to help you whether you appreciate it or not. We are all in the same
boat--all suspect. Let us clear the air."
His voice was low and persuasive, and his hand sought and found hers.
She hastily tore hers away from his touch. For once Larry Hughes had
overplayed his part. Penelope had got a clue to things that had been
dark to her, and some at least of her doubts of the man who sat by her
side were resolved.
"Adèle--and you," she murmured, softly, more to herself than to the
man. "I begin to understand."
"Well, tell me," he said.
"You," she said holding away from him as from some abhorrent thing,
"you are the blackmailer. You are the man she has been buying silence
from. You are the man who wrecked her life, who has driven her to
forgery, and worse. I believe you are the most contemptible creature on
God's earth."
Not a muscle of the man's face moved as he listened. "Like you, I
begin to see," he declared, his tone smooth as before. "Well, it
doesn't matter a whole lot. Adèle has been putting her foot in it,
possibly getting out of her depth at the races, and she has hinted to
you that she is being blackmailed. Anyhow, she has done some foolish
things, and you are standing between her and trouble. That's what
it amounts to. No, Miss Noelson, I am not a blackmailer. There was
something between Adèle and me many years ago, before her marriage, and
possibly a crook has got some foolish letters of ours."
Mentally he cursed himself for a fool. So sure had he been that the
charges Labar had made against this girl could only be explained by
one reason--that she was fully in Adèle Gertstein's confidence--that
he had let slip enough to enable her to make a guess somewhere near
the truth. It was not Larry Hughes' habit to talk loosely. However, it
could not be helped. He had acted on the assumption that the knowledge
she had might make disclosures from her dangerous. He realised that he
had been wrong. He might have left her alone and all Labar's efforts to
extract anything from her that would have inculpated Larry would have
been vain. But now by his own act he had made her the very menace he
had feared. The guard that he had ever maintained upon himself had been
incautiously relaxed. At least it was not irretrievable. He was where
he had thought himself to be. Scotland Yard would have a long way to
go ere it would be able to bring any crime against him.
The girl shrank as far from him as the limits of the car would allow.
"But why this?" she demanded. "Why are you carrying me away, and where
are you taking me?"
He made an impatient little gesture. "I am taking you away because you
are not safe in London. You need have no fear. You will be well looked
after."
Penelope did not miss the sinister construction that might have been
put upon his words. She felt herself shudder inwardly. But to the man
she presented a brave front.
"Why?" she demanded again. "I am nothing to you. I insist that you put
me down."
"And let Labar twist you as he will. I am not raving mad." With a
sudden movement he possessed himself of her hands. "Penelope, you are
something to me. Can't you understand, child? You are everything to me."
"No," she protested. "Do not touch me."
He paid no heed. "I want you, child. I have wanted you ever since
I met you. Listen. You have no one to consider but yourself. I am
rich--richer than you could imagine. I can give you everything that the
world holds. You and I together. Will you marry me?"
"No," she declared, vehemently. "Marry a thief--a blackmailer--God
knows what--no!"
He flung her roughly from him. He had heard harder words in his life
and had met them sneering and unmoved. But somehow to hear them from
her stung him.
"You think you won't--now," he said viciously. "But you will, my girl.
If you think you can set your silly obstinacy against my will, my dear,
and win, you are booked for trouble. I have given you your chance and I
don't permit man nor woman to stand in my way. Bigger people than you
have learnt that."
She returned no answer. The car turned from the smooth road, and slowed
as it took a rough track through a windswept marshland. In a little it
came to a halt.
"Here we are," said Larry Hughes.